Memory of Murder

by Ramona Richards

  “Oh, Ruthie, what in the world were they looking for?”

  Lindsey scanned the bedroom floor until she found a decorative bulletin board that RuthAnn’s nieces had made. Covered with tidbits and memorabilia from their high school and college years, the board had made a great place to hide the restaurant keys almost in plain sight. In among concert programs, corsages from their prom dates, and spring break souvenirs hung a small cloth bag in their school colors. Easy to get to, easy to overlook. Lindsey found the board near the bed, the small sack still in place.

  She straightened, shoving the keys in her pocket, and let out a long sigh, that tense feeling of vulnerability easing.

  “I knew you’d know where they were.”

  Lindsey screamed as she swung around. A tall man, his face partially covered by a ski mask, blocked the doorway into the living room. His wide, bright blue eyes reflected the light from the kitchen, and Lindsey stepped backward. “You always were a snoopy kid. Now it’s your turn to die, July Presley.” He lunged for her.

  His hand clamped on her left arm, his fingers digging into the muscle. She screamed again, as loud as she could. She lashed out, putting all her strength behind a right cross to his nose. He howled in pain as blood spurted. His grip loosened enough that Lindsey jerked free and sprinted for the door into the kitchen, her ankle no obstacle to freedom. Her shoes skidded on debris on the floor and, off balance, she grabbed the doorframe. She slung her body around it and ducked low. Her attacker’s hand swung over her, slamming into the wooden frame. He bellowed, but pushed toward her again.

  Lindsey scrambled for the back door, tripping over a chair leg and landing hard on the floor. Her assailant lunged again, but his shoes lost traction on the flour dusting the floor. His arms windmilled as he skated toward the sink. He grabbed the counter and turned, just as the front door crashed open.

  “Freeze! Police!”

  The man did not hesitate. He pointed at her. “I’ll find you!” Then, growling obscenities, he bounded over Lindsey and disappeared through the back door into the dark outside.

  Two officers rounded the corner from the living room, guns drawn. Jeff was one of them, and Lindsey saw his eyes widen when he noticed Lindsey on the ground. “Lindsey!”

  She pointed out the back door. “He—” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard. “How did you—”

  Jeff motioned to his partner, who took off out the back door. Jeff knelt by Lindsey. “I was outside the car, stretching my legs, and heard you scream. Are you okay?”

  Lindsey gasped for breath. “I think. Just scared.”

  “No doubt.”

  “The second guy. It was the second guy.”

  Jeff froze for a moment. “You sure?”

  She swallowed. “Yes. I recognized his voice.”

  His mouth tightened. “Can you stand?”

  She nodded, and clutched his arm, her voice pleading, “Help me.”

  Jeff put his arm around her and lifted her to her feet. She stumbled, clinging to him, relishing the security of his closeness, his strength. She didn’t care how it looked. She didn’t want to let go of him. The adrenaline draining from her, she began to shake. “I need to sit down.”

  He held her tighter. “Can you make it to the front stoop?”

  She nodded, and he helped her maneuver through the living room, his arm tight around her. On the stoop, her knees gave way and she sank hard against him. Jeff eased her down onto one of the steps.

  “Lindsey, what were you doing in there? This house is a crime scene.”

  She stared up at him, her hands still shaking. “I know. I just didn’t think about that.” Lindsey realized that wasn’t quite the truth and her voice faltered. “I mean, I did, but I didn’t think it would matter. That y’all were through with your work in there. And I just needed to get them before anyone else did!”

  “Get what?”

  She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the keys. “My keys. RuthAnn had a set for the diner and one for my house. It didn’t occur to me that’s why the house was ransacked. That’s what he was looking for!” She took a deep, quivering breath. “I knew the keys were well hidden, but I just started feeling...I don’t know...vulnerable...to have them over here in an unsecured house.”

  “You should have called us....” His voice trailed off as his face tightened. “How do you know that’s what he was after?”

  Lindsey shoved the keys back in her pocket, and crossed her arms across her belly. “That’s what he said in there. After I got the keys. He said, ‘I knew you’d know where they were.’”

  Jeff’s voice deepened. “Did he say anything else?”

  Tears slid down Lindsey’s cheeks. “He said it was my turn to die. That he’d find me.” She swallowed hard. “And he called me July.”

  “July?” Jeff scowled. “Why July?”

  “It’s the name I grew up with. It changed when I went into foster care after my mother died. I asked my new family to change it, and they helped me make it happen. No one’s called me July since then.” She grimaced. “Of course, that’s why it took so long for June to find me.”

  Jeff closed his eyes as if a wave of pain had washed over him.

  “Jeff?”

  He opened his eyes again. “He had to know you as a child.” He hesitated, then continued. “I really didn’t want this to be about you.”

  She leaned harder against him. “Neither did I.”

  “But it is. This isn’t about RuthAnn at all. It’s about you. His target for all of this is you.”

  SIX

  Standing under a tree in the yard of Lindsey’s house, Jeff stared at the three sisters, clustered together on the front steps. The sun had edged up over the horizon, and the golden light created sharp-edged shapes on the lawn. Near him, Sheriff Ray Taylor stood with his chief deputy, Daniel Rivers, who was married to the oldest sister, April.

  “I can’t believe she went over there in the middle of the night,” Daniel muttered. “What was she thinking?”

  “How unsafe she felt.” Jeff crossed his arms. “With those keys still over there, she talked herself into a panic. She’s been alone so long, it never occurs to her to ask for help, even with a cop standing right outside the house. If something’s wrong, you fix it yourself.”

  Ray cleared his throat. “It’s not just Lindsey. They all think like that, even after they get married.” He, too, watched the three women, although his eyes were mainly on his wife, June.

  “No kidding.” Jeff turned to look at his boss. “When I told Lindsey she couldn’t open the diner for breakfast, she called someone and made arrangements for it to happen. I think June and April are going over there when they’re done here.”

  Ray nodded. “They should. People talk to June. They may hear something from the locals. No sign of the assailant?”

  Jeff shook his head. “No, sir. The foot chase ended when the suspect took off in a small, dark-colored sedan. Toyota or maybe a Honda. No lights, no license plate.”

  Ray rested one hand on his pistol grip. “Probably stolen anyway. My guess is it’s in a ditch somewhere under ten feet of garbage or over in Fred’s quarry under twenty feet of water. What are your plans for the day?”

  Jeff glanced back at Lindsey. “In-depth interview. She said she couldn’t sleep because she dreamed about the GTO. There’s something there from her past, but she can’t get to it. Plus, the trace we started yesterday on the GTO should be back. Then I plan to check on the guy in the hospital.”

  “Fine, but that boy’s in a coma. Don’t spend a lot of time there. You focus on Lindsey. Whatever’s going on, she’s at the heart of it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Gage?”

  Jeff looked at Ray.

  “Keep her alive.”

  Jeff no
dded curtly and the other two men left. Taking a deep breath, Jeff walked to the women, who stopped muttering among themselves and looked up at him.

  June stood up. “We’ve come up with a plan to keep my sister safe and away from this maniac.”

  Whatever Jeff had planned to say went right out of his head. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “Well, since y’all can’t seem to keep her safe—”

  “Now, wait a minute, she—”

  “—we’ve decided she should move in with April and Daniel. Daniel will be there when he’s not on duty, and they have an alarm system. And Polly.”

  Jeff stared. “Polly...”

  April spoke up, her voice only slightly milder than June’s. “You know, Aunt Suke’s German shepherd.”

  “I know who Polly is.”

  April stood. “Aunt Suke isn’t feeling well right now, so she’s staying with us. And Polly. And you know no one messes with Polly.”

  “Obviously, this house isn’t safe, even with y’all standing guard at night.” June stepped closer to him. “And y’all can’t keep that up for long. The department’s just not that big. You’ll wear everyone out.”

  Jeff looked behind him, but the respective husbands of Lindsey’s sisters had vanished. “Cowards,” Jeff muttered under his breath. He turned back, focusing on Lindsey, who’d been watching her sisters as if she were at a tennis match. “What about you? Are you on board with this?”

  Lindsey, who’d been almost buoyant and determined at the first fight, now looked pale and defeated, which made Jeff’s chest ache. She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t like it. They live over in Caralinda. It adds another twenty minutes to the drive to the diner. But they make sense, about having people around. It probably would be safer.” She motioned to her front door. “We already know this isn’t exactly the securest place...”

  Jeff squatted to put himself eye level with her. “And?”

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed her sleeve up. A hand-shaped bruise had already formed on her biceps, the finger marks distinct on her skin. Jeff caught his breath as she whispered, “He’s really strong. Stronger than the kid was. Stronger than I’ve ever—”

  “He’s a monster,” June declared. “Let us help you keep her safe.”

  Jeff stood up. “So what’s your plan?”

  June blinked twice, almost as if his acquiescence caught her off guard. But not for long. She motioned at April. “We know how this works. You need to talk to her at length. You’ve already made that clear. In the meantime, April and I will pack up most of the essential stuff here and move it to April’s place. Then we’ll go to the restaurant. We’ll focus on keeping it up and running while y’all solve this thing.” She paused only a brief second. “And you have to. If this dates back to something from our childhood, this is going to be bad for all of us. You have to get this monster out of our lives. All our lives. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  They looked down at Lindsey, who smiled wanly and nodded. “Deal.” She pulled the keys out of her pants pocket. “You’ll need these. And don’t forget the stuff on the bedside table.”

  April patted her shoulder. “We won’t. I’ll see you tonight.” She motioned toward June, and the two older Presley sisters went inside the house.

  Jeff sat down on the step next to Lindsey. “You’re really all right with this?”

  “June can be overbearing.”

  “Understatement.”

  Lindsey laughed, which made Jeff relax a bit. “True. But she means well. And she makes sense. I might sleep better with April and Daniel in the house.”

  “Not to mention the smartest German shepherd in three counties.”

  She nodded, looking weary again. “So...let’s get on with it.”

  “You need your crutch?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “Not if you don’t mind my leaning on your arm.”

  “Not at all.” He offered it to her, and she grasped his forearm, pulling herself to her feet. They moved slowly toward his car, Lindsey clinging to him the entire time.

  No, he thought, I don’t mind at all.

  The ride back to the station started quietly, with Lindsey leaning against the passenger door, staring out as the day grew brighter and warmer. The light through the trees flashed across her face as Jeff drove to the station in Bell’s Springs. Jeff fought the urge to reach out and stroke her arm, find some way to comfort her. But everything he thought of seemed awkward. He had never been good in such a situation.

  About halfway there, Lindsey broke the silence with a sigh. “I thought I could handle him, the way I always handled my father. I didn’t realize...I failed at something I thought I had conquered. I feel like such a wimp.”

  Jeff struggled for the right words. “But you aren’t. You were under a lot of duress at the wreck. Not a good time for judgments about someone’s size or strength.”

  Lindsey smiled shyly. “Is sounding like a cop your default mode of conversation?”

  Jeff felt his face heating up. “Yeah, I guess. It’s what I know.”

  She nodded and leaned her head back against the seat. “I think we all do that. I’ll sometimes fall back on restaurant jargon.”

  “What do you mean—like you handled your father?”

  Lindsey looked down at her hands a few moments, as if weighing her thoughts. “You know about my dad, right?”

  Jeff nodded, then shrugged. “I know from April and June that he was abusive.”

  “That’s the polite term. He was a drunken lout who pounded on all of us. The only reason he stayed out of jail as long as he did was that the police couldn’t prove anything. They knew what went on in that house, and they really tried. He would go nuts, and they’d take him to jail for abuse or public drunkenness and resisting arrest. But without my mother’s testimony... He didn’t go to prison until after...” She crossed her arms and took a deep, steadying breath. “Until after he killed my mother and my brother. Until then... I was still pretty young. And when you’re a kid, your dad is big to you. A hulk.”

  Jeff remembered how big he’d thought his own dad was. “Huge.”

  “Truth was, my dad was only about five-eight. I didn’t realize that until I was older. Not a big guy, but wiry. Mama was about my size, maybe a little bigger.” She shook her head slowly. “But this guy was taller than you.” She squinted at him. “How tall are you?”

  “Six-two or so.”

  She nodded, staring at him, clearly making the comparison in her mind. “Yeah, so he’s six-four maybe. Two hundred twenty pounds, at least. Maybe two fifty. And strong.” She rubbed her arm gently. “No one—not my dad or anyone from my time on the streets—has grabbed me like that. I thought he was going to rip my arm off.”

  “But you fought back well. You bloodied him.”

  Again, she shrugged one shoulder, then fell silent, looking out the window again.

  “We’ll find him, Lindsey. We’ll stop this. You have to believe that.”

  “I do,” she said, her voice a bare whisper. “But I’m also beginning to understand my mother’s fear. Why she didn’t...” Slowly, almost absently, she began drawing circles and lines on the window.

  Jeff suddenly found it hard to swallow. Never before had he wanted so badly to hold her, assure her that everything would work out. He had admired Lindsey’s strength and courage for so long that her sudden vulnerability cracked something inside that threatened to overwhelm him. It took all the professionalism he could muster to stay silent and keep driving.

  Eventually, Jeff pulled up in front of the converted storefront that served as the Bell County Sheriff’s Department. He helped Lindsey out of the car and, at Ray’s suggestion, put her in the conference room instead of an interrogation room. The leather chairs of the conference room made a better resting place fo
r her battered body, and she could elevate her ankle.

  As he brought in a digital recorder and the paperwork he needed, he saw that Lindsey had grabbed a piece of paper and started to sketch. He sank down in a chair, watching her, fascinated by this unexpected talent.

  “He has reddish hair,” she murmured.

  Jeff snapped to attention and scrambled to turn on the recorder. “Say that again.”

  She continued to sketch. “Sitting here, and in the car, I kept going over and over the attack in my mind, trying to remember as much as I could. And details kept coming back, as if I was seeing everything in slow motion.” She shuddered, reliving the moment, then took a deep, calming breath.

  “He wore a ski mask that covered his face, but the eyeholes were stretched, showing some of his forehead. When he came at me, something about him didn’t look right. But in the heat of the attack, it didn’t occur to me why that was. Just now it came to me. His eyes looked...bare. It was like he didn’t have any eyebrows. But I think they were there, just very light. He didn’t seem to have any eyelashes, either, which would be consistent with him being a reddish-blond. Redheads and blonds sometimes have eyelashes and eyebrows so light they seem to disappear.”

  She moved the pencil down to fill out the sketch around his eyes. “His eyes were blue, but darker than the average blond’s, almost sapphire.” She continued drawing the outline of his face. “The mask was pretty tight and it outlined his jaw.” She hesitated, looking at the overall drawing, then handed it to him. “The nose is probably not right at all. With that coloring and jawline, he’s probably from Germanic stock, Anglo-Saxon. But that’s the best I can do.”

  Jeff’s eyebrows arched as he stared at the drawing. “This is great. More than most people can recall.”

  “We all did something to escape. April read. June got into trouble. I drew. I refined my observation skills in culinary school, where you need to walk into a kitchen and immediately know if anything is out of whack with the staff. You become exceptionally observant when you’re in charge of a kitchen or you don’t survive. I used to go home at night and sketch the last scene in the kitchen, just to see if I could see something that could be done better.”